The Slipshod Collection
by TheKyttin13
Summary: A group of Elsanna fics written by Kyttin himself, starting with belated entries for Elsanna Week 2014 and continuing as long as he sees fit. Rated T for Tentative.
1. Cuddles

_**A/N: This marks the first of the seven one-shots that was SUPPOSED to be up in time for Elsanna week two weeks ago, but here I am, late as usual. Hopefully fashionably late, and with plenty of readers still around. **_

_**Anyways, welcome! This is the Slipshod Collection, a group of stories that may or may not be related to one another, starting with the seven prompts from Elsanna Week 2014. I MIGHT post Autumn Leaves here as the eighth work in the series, just because it got buried underneath everything else when I posted it and it's a little flimsy as a stand-alone piece. **_

_**But anyways, I'm sorry I've been gone. Two English classes in college is hell on the mind, and I've not had the inspiration to write. As a treat, this is the longest chapter for anything I've written in the past year. Congrats.**_

* * *

_The Slipshod Collection_

Elsanna Week 2014, Prompt 1: Cuddles

Anna slumped in defeat on the plush velvet loveseat, eyes glazed and half-lidded as she gazed at the flickering fire's tentative whisperings of presence and emptiness, the iridescent spirals of red and orange and yellow and white and grey silk journeying toward the ceiling and recoiling with sharp fear at getting too far from the smoldering logs below, and thus becoming too cold to stay alive. The little flames, so much like children and possessing a similar energy of rapturous wonder, enjoyed darting and leaping about the ashen log they called mother, playing a game of tag with fearless tendrils of joy and abandon, reaching but never quite touching, warming but never quite burning, swelling without bursting the way an embryo would grow and blossom into a child to be delivered forth from the warm security of the swollen womb, falling into waiting arms with open, sparkling eyes naïve to the dangers and fallacies of the world. Such a child could never know any harm, could never hurt anything within its own power, not even should death choose to extract the precious, newfound life from the grace of earthly blessing, and as death would be wont to leave the innocent and the fortunate to their musings and ministrations, so was the hearth content to warm the dejected, listless young woman seated a scant amount of feet away. She sighed, a sound that could make even the brightest of days swell up with a grey canopy of sad-eyed clouds and stray boiling drizzlets, the kind that were so cold they left burns upon the skin on contact, and though the sound of that quiet breath leaving her lips would have shamed the sun's powerful rays, she had no effect on the dazzling fire that sparked and popped before her like so many little capsules of gunpowder, contained explosions of mirth and pyrotechnic fantasies.

Her left leg stretched in an almost straight line from her slouched hip, the sole of her embroidered white leather-and-suede, rabbit-fur-lined boot faced toward the fire, the dainty roundness of the toe pointed skyward and skewed slightly outward. Her right leg, clad in the boot's mate and just as relaxed, bent at a ninety-degree angle and tucked beneath both her left leg and the edge of the gold-leaf-trimmed loveseat, the toe resting against the hand-knit twill area rug that sprawled across the laminated hardwood floor below, a massive phoenix-purple and jade-green crocus captured forever in the taut, dyed cotton threads riddled with knots and loops. The rug had been a rather expensive investment by the King and Queen, nearly a decade before it would see the defeated grace of a tired woman sprawled before the hearth.

One arm hung limp in her lap, hand loose and flopped across her pale, sateen-skirted legs, the gentle folds and rumples laying in distraught twists and tangles, a mess of wrinkled linen and weave. Her other arm bent down, the elbow perched on the arm of the chair, leaving her forearm to thrust upward into a half-fist that mashed against her soft, round cheek, pushing it askew on her face to match the tilt of her head on her spindly neck. A shallowly-breathing bosom, pert and petite as it was, strained and laxed against the unlaced bodice that had constrained her body earlier that day in an effort to exude an aura of pride and regal presentation.

It wasn't for lack of trying that she'd fallen into a miserable slump of freckles and sighs and downcast eyes. It was supposed to be a wonderful winter day, clear skies, fresh powder abound, the perfect day to try and do something nice for her hard-working, beloved sister. She had hoped that she could alleviate some of the queen's stress by offering a small bundle of happiness for the day, though that had all but come undone and had most certainly gone awry despite best intentions and well-meant efforts.

Perhaps Anna should have left well enough alone and minded to her own business rather than antagonizing the chefs. Then again, Elsa had often been neglect to attend to feeding herself when she was under extensive pressure and fit to burst, so it had been a heartfelt gesture that the princess cook a small, meaningful dinner for her sister, a thick vegetable soup with squares of succulent, smoked beef marinated in the finest spices the kingdom's trade agreements had to offer. It had started well; the head chef, Jorn, had started her with cutting the beans into small strips, the length of her littlest finger from palm to second knuckle, using gentle rolling slices with the stalks held fast between trembling fingers and a wooden slicing board. Anna had been fearful at using a knife, for the last time she'd encountered one she'd watched it nearly cleave her sister's beautiful head from her pale, distraught shoulders. Granted, that knife had been a sword, but it was a sharp-edged object fashioned from forged steel and leather and carved wood, not unlike the small paring knife she held. She separated the cold green beans into manageable lengths, some longer or more diagonally-cut than others, but satisfactory enough to be used in a soup.

Next came the skinning of the carrots with a clean paring knife, slicing the dirty skin from the clean vegetable within, slow and careful strokes leaving ribbons of orange skin in the refuse bin. That had been far more nerve-wracking than the bean slicing; one false move and an entire digit could very well end up amid the orange shavings, rather than just a nail or a part of a finger. Nevertheless, she succeeded in peeling the carrots, five of them, moving right along to the potatoes three and humming with uneven breaths as she kept her fear in check.

The vegetables sliced, diced, skinned, and ready to move forward, Jorn helped to slice up a ripe red tomato, "firm as me wife's backside," he'd said with a hearty laugh. The tomato looked like little more than a pulp when he was finished, and he followed with a second. "The soup needs two 'may-toes, jus' like a woman needs four rosy cheeks." He winked at the blushing princess, though she laughed nonetheless. "Though, them cheeks not be fer cuttin' and soupin', y'hear?"

Then came the hard part: the meat. A full-sized butcher's cleaver, seven inches of iron-sharpened blade and five inches of body to hook the handle, found its way into Anna's hand. She gulped. "Take four fat strips offa tha' flank," he instructed. "Make 'em…oh, 'bout's long as them beans," he said, pointing at the green stalks that floated in the boiling water of the soup broth. Anna looked at the flank, easily as thick as her arm, and attempted to slice the meat with a rolling stroke. The chef laughed.

"Y'ain' gonna cut it like tha'. Gotta hit 'er hard, like ya killun it all over 'gain."

She blinked twice, unsure what to do. With a raised arm, she swung the knife down, smashing it through the flank and splitting a fat chunk of uncooked meat from the tenderized mother it had once been attached to, blood splattering up into her face and over her hands. She cried out in surprise and disgust.

"Cookin's a righ' messy job, missy. Y'sure y'wanna keep goin'?"

Anna responded by smashing the knife into the flank again, splitting another strip away. The chef leaned back on his heels, arms crossed, watching the determined princess hack away at the meat, splattering blood and fat across the stainless steel counter that had formerly gleamed with what commonfolk would call "spitshine cleanliness" that would reflect even the dirties of faces with crystal clarity. The red spatterings marred the polished surface, the circular buff marks from being forged and polished to reflection graining and dissipating the droplets into a mess that would take a great deal of cleaning. The chef grunted.

"Now, grab tha' smaller knife an' cut 'em up small-likes."

And Anna sliced the strips into delicate squares, little cubelets that oozed as they slumped on the cutting board, the juices filling the scores of slice marks engrained in the wood.

"Isn't this bad for the board?"

"Wha?"

"The blood...doesn't it stain the wood?"

"Soak 'er in wa'er and she does jus' fine."

Anna nodded, slicing the last of the meat into manageable chunks. The chef beamed.

"Now we gotta fry 'em up a bit before addin' 'em to th' broth."

He produced a cast-iron frying pan that weighed more than anything Anna had ever needed to lift, banging it down on the stovetop with a loud, metallic clatter and a bright, lucid flame. He tossed the meat cubes into the pan and let them sizzle, adding salt and black pepper to the marinated meat for emphasis on the infused flavor. The meat cooked with delicious aromas, falling into the boiling pot to mingle with the vegetables and spices. The chef samlped the broth, smacking his lips with hearty approval.

"Very good. Jus' a pinch o' parsley an' dinner is served."

He added the green sprig, stirring the pot generously, and handed the ladle to Anna.

"Stir tha' for a minute and then let 'er sit another few," he instructed. She dipped the scoop into the broth and began slowly drawing circles and curls in the murky depths, the aroma driving her senses wild.

She scratched her itching forehead, noting the sweat beaded there, and managed to dislodge a hair to fall precariously into the pot. She groaned, switching the ladle to her other hand, and stuck her arm into the pot to grab the hair.

What Anna had forgotten in her moment of daring victory was that the pot contained boiling water, and no matter how many vegetables or squares of meat were added to the pot, boiling water was still boiling water, and as soon as her fingers closed around the rogue hair and the red-orange tomato juices gathered and clung to her skin, this realization met her in the form of angry burns and an unrestrained scream.

She whipped her hand from the pot, hair still between her fingers, and rushed to the sink, fighting to restrain her scream of self-inflicted pain as she flooded icy water from the well onto her hands, rinsing juices and burns and hair all down the drain all at once. She sighed in relief, relishing the icy cold that soothed the blisters that had begun to form.

Unfortunately, this meant that the pot was left unattended for several minutes, long enough for the boiling water to bubble and froth past the surface and over the edge of the pot. The flames below, enjoying the savory taste of the soup mix, licked up the side of the pot and reached the handle of the ladle. Had the chef been using a metal ladle, all would have been well, save for a hot handle. However, he had chosen to use a hand-carved wooden ladle, untreated and made specifically for vegetable-beef stew like the one Anna had striven to make. The greedy flames licked and burned the handle, setting the ladle alight with a crackling blaze that caught Anna's attention; the smell of smoke was never a good sign anywhere in the castle.

When the sight of the burning ladle caught in her mind and finally registered (after taking several seconds of processing), Anna's eyes widened in horror. She scooped up water between her hands and darted back to the stove, dumping it on the ladle and extinguishing the fire. This, in turn, caused the charred remains of the handle to fracture and fall from their bond, plunging into the soup and dissipating into black ash and ruin. She turned off the stove, staring at the mess she'd made. A blistered hand, a burnt ladle, and a ruined soup mixture leered at her with taunts and jeers of failure and incompetence. Her shoulders drooped. She'd been doing so well. Tears stung angrily in her eyes as she berated herself, every other word an expletive.

She wouldn't have taken it so hard if it'd only been the dinner she'd messed up. Unfortunately, her day with the queen had been fraught with disappointment, and the snow castle she'd been helping to make that afternoon was yet another cold reminder of how she'd messed up that day.

Elsa had been more than willing to permit excessive snowfall wreak havoc in the royal garden, for it was the middle of winter and the fiery-haired young princess had wanted to build a castle out of ice and snow with her sister. Both women had set about building the masterpiece, free of magical assistance on Elsa's part, and had made a wonderful edifice that could have conceivably weathered a mild blizzard with walls and a ceiling as thick as a bear's body and twice as sturdy, packed and tamped down with care and precision. It wasn't as grand as a castle ought to be, but it was still profound and burly in its own right.

And then the snowball fight began.

Anna had started it by tossing a small glob of frozen wonder at her sister's turned back, clapping her squarely in the back of the head with a well-aimed strike. Elsa had retaliated with a volley of pelting snowballs, leaving Anna to run and duck for cover while she attempted to counter the onslaught. Unfortunately, after several futile throws against the oncoming storm, she tripped, falling face-first into the massive snow shelter's retaining wall.

It wouldn't have been so bad, had she not skimped on building the retaining wall (as an impatient young woman was wont to do), and so when she fell through the powder and brought two-thirds of the poorly-reinforced wall down with her, the remainder of the edifice cracked and crumbled, plummeting to the floor below and burying her under four feet of packed snow. She wiggled free in time to see her sister asking if all was well, and when she offered the blonde a thum jutted into the air with a weak, meaningless smile, the queen replied with news that she was required at a meeting to begin immediately for the discussion of hydration and sanitation of the city. Anna watched her sister go, wishing she wouldn't have been so stupid as to knock the building over so that they had something they could say they'd done together.

But this bad day turned horrible turned unbearable started with a bad morning to spiral deliriously out of control, a morning on which Anna had decided it would be an idea to procure two trays of breakfast from the kitchen and bring them up to Elsa's room so that they might enjoy a meal together. She'd paid painstaking attention to the way everything was arranged on each tray, even down to the way the bubbles in the coffee were scattered around the edge of the caffeinated meniscus. Up two flights of stairs to the top floor, a twisted knob, Anna was almost home-free.

Except for the unsuspected rumple in the rug spread over the bedroom floor.

Normally Elsa's room was immaculate at all times, which of course allowed Anna the grace of complaining at the fault in the rug, were she at liberty to provide suitable outburst. Instead, her foot caught on the snag, pitching her forward with two trays in her hands, each with plates of fresh flapjacks; cups of imported maple syrup, strawberry jam, and melted butter; slices of toast; cooked strips of bacon and links of sausage; fresh fried potato strips; eggs both poached and scrambled for preference; and steaming mugs of coffee, all of which existed in two-fold on the stainless steel trays, all falling to the floor in a jumbled, cacophonic explosion of noise and color and mess. The rug immediately began soaking up the coffee, jam, syrup, and butter while the oils from the potatoes and meats began to drip into the stitching.

It wouldn't have been a terrible ordeal, had Elsa been there to witness it. As it was, when Anna finally gathered everything back onto the plates, blushing and apologizing profusely for the mess that she promised to clean up, she finally laid eyes on the bed, noting the well-made comforter and fluffed pillows that had long since been abandoned. Even with her best effort to wake up early (and indeed, she'd been up before the sun had risen), she still hadn't bested Elsa. Shame and embarrassment left her feeling moody for the remainder of the morning, and with the consequent destruction of the ice fortress and the ruined dinner that had been disdainfully poured in the trash with a note of apology written for the queen, left sitting on her chair in the empty dining hall as Anna fled with barely-retrained tears suspended across her eyes.

And so at the end of the night, when the grandfather clock was chiming half-past eleven from the dark corner of the sitting room, Anna stared with quiet resignation at the wispy flames in the hearth, green skirts limp, black bodice askew, hair jumbled, eyes full of regret. She wished she could do the day over again, that she would be granted a new opportunity to try and grace her sister with thoughtful gestures to slowly work them both up to the eventual confession that would certainly follow. Anna didn't even know what she would do about confessing, just that she would bite the blade and do it even if it amounted to nothing and estranged them more than they'd been for the past thirteen years. Anna could handle that. She'd been alone much of her life; being alone again wouldn't be so terrible to imagine or act out.

An arm reached over the back of the couch and startled the musing red-head, a mug of steaming wonder floating down to meet her waiting hands.

"Hot chocolate?" a suave voice asked.

She reached tentatively for the cup, pulling it to her lips and taking a grateful draught as she sprawled across the loveseat. Her sister sat down, a similar cup in her small, pale hands, hair unkempt, eyes bloodshot, purple circlets across her high cheek bones. Anna continued to stare at the fire despite catching the telltale details of a sleepless night in her peripheral vision.

"You didn't even make it to bed last night," Anna observed.

Elsa chuckled. "The clock sounded three last night and I was still reading the latest trade agreement from our dear English neighbors to the south. After that, I don't remember until it struck six, and then I was dragged into another meeting."

"You were free this afternoon..." Anna chimed in a small voice.

"For long enough to see my wonderful sister and play in the snow until my next meeting," the queen replied. "Today has been an extremely long day."

Anna chose not to comment. Compared to the meetings and strain Elsa undoubtedly faced each and every day, the princess's day had been rather simple and unimportant. She almost felt better that her failures had gone somewhat unnoticed.

"I spoke with a maid after my first meeting," Elsa said.

_So much for unnoticed._

"She told me she found stains on my rug. Looked like someone spilled syrup or bacon grease. Not just one helping, but two. I found that interesting. I asked the butler if he'd been about and he said that you'd offered to bring breakfast to my room."

Anna sunk lower into the chair. "I spilled on your rug."

"And then you knocked over the snow shelter we made," the blonde continued. "You just...tripped and fell like normal, but the thing fell on top of you like things normally do."

Anna sighed, looking away. "I'm such a klutz."

"I thought that was the end of it, but then I found out that my dinner was ill-prepared. I found a note written in messy handwriting that said my scheduled dinner would be substituted with something else more to my satisfaction. And while it was most certainly to my satisfaction, it wasn't the stew I'd been looking forward to."

"I set the stew on fire," Anna mumbled, placing her unfinished mug of liquid wonder on the coffee table to her right.

"What on earth has gotten into you, Anna?"

More angry tears pricked the princess. She sniffled, gaze focused on the fire.

"I...I wanted to bring you breakfast so we could eat together. You're always so busy and I'm not, so...so I just wanted to do something nice for you. But then I tripped over your rug and dumped all of the food on the floor and apologized and cleaned most of it up, but...but you weren't there anyways. Then I thought we could play in the snow, and I broke the snow castle because I'm a klutz. I'm so...so stupid. And I didn't let it go; I thought...that I'd make your stew, and I did everything that Jorn said to do, but then my hair got in the pot and I tried to get it out but the broth burned my hand so I rinsed it off and the pot boiled over and the stove set the ladle on fire and it's all my fault, Elsa. I wanted to do something nice for you and I messed everything up and it's all my fault."

An arm draped its way over Anna's slumped shoulders, dragging her upright. Elsa snuggled up to her sister, laying her blonde head on the younger girl's lap, feet curled up on the couch with the rest of her lithe, limp body.

"Oh, Anna," the queen sighed. "I'm sorry."

Anna blinked. "Sorry? You didn't mess everything up."

"But you tried so hard for me, and I wasn't even appreciative. I just thought you were screwing around like normal, but...to think you wanted to do this all for me, it's just so...so wonderful."

"I stained your rug, ruined our fort, and destroyed your dinner."

"But you didn't mean to."

Anna sighed. "No, I didn't. But I just...I wanted to show you."

"To show me?"

"Yeah. To show you that I'm...that I'm not just a screw-up."

"Anna, no. No, no, no."

The queen sat up, holding her sister's chin in gentle hands. "You're not a screw-up. You're not a failure. You're not a spare button or an unused horseshoe."

She gulped. "Y-you heard that?"

"All of it and more. I may have been in my room, but I always listened for your voice."

Anna blushed. Elsa smiled.

"I'm sorry I ruined dinner."

"The fact that you even considered making dinner for me is wonderful, Anna. I tasted the broth despite the chef's warning. It...was a bit ashy," she admitted, looking away with a pensive gaze fixed on nothing. "It was ashy. But I could taste the vegetables, and that meat...my God, I don't think I've ever tasted something that succulent."

"Jorn marinated it," Anna muttered.

"But you brought it all together. For me. That..." Elsa looked down, suddenly shy. "Thank you, Anna. Even if it went wrong...it's a wonderful thought, and that's enough for me."

Anna drew her sister in for a tight hug, the crackle of the fire lending a chorus of warmth and delight to the atmosphere, and both women finally felt relaxed after a long, stressful day, wrapped in each other as they dozed off into dreamland.

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_**Happy endings and fluff. Two things I usually can't stand. Even so, I don't want to leave these two high and dry. Not yet. There'll be plenty enough time for my...malevolence...to pervade the text. Anyways, I love you all, my gentle snowflakes, and I'll hopefully be back within the week to post Prompt 2: First Kiss! ~Kyttin  
**_


	2. First Kiss

**_A/N: This is a really short segment, but it'll hopefully make everyone happy that I've updated. Feel free to comment on this or This Calling, though please realize that the other story is finished._**

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_The Slipshod Collection_

Elsanna Week 2014, Prompt 2: First Kiss

_Kindness in the summer sun_

_Is no match for winter's fun_

Elsa stared perplexedly at the couplet, its meaning lost on her. _Who would have…? And why?_ The scrap of parchment was subject to further intense scrutiny, icy veins flaking across its thin, fragile surface, blurring the words with frost.

She shook her head and deposited the slip onto her desk, making a note to ask Kai and Gerda about the paper and to screen her incoming mail better.

* * *

_Symphonies sing their joyous song_

_Striking melodies, beautiful and long_

This time, the note was on her supper platter. She frowned.

"Kai."

He approached, stilty legs carrying his rotund body with ease. "Your highness?"

"What is the meaning of these notes?"

Kai squinted. "It would seem someone has left you some food for thought, as it were."

The queen snorted. "My initial impression of the dining hall was that it would serve food for eating, not food for thought. Perhaps I've grown distant from more recent tradition in my monarchy."

Kai laughed. "Certainly not. We merely await your sister's arrival before the meal begins."

And several terse moments later, Anna flounced through the doors and plopped into her seat with a flourish, gorging herself on the delicious meal under the mirthful gaze of her elder sister.

* * *

_A touch of joy and mild surprise_

_No lack of sparkle in bright blue eyes_

This one again in her chambers, resting as a bookmark in her ledger. She growled.

"Gerda."

The nursemaid immediately flew into the room. "M'lady?"

"Who has been leaving these notes around the castle for me?"

"Notes?"

Elsa plucked the second from her bodice and held the three for the elder woman to see. Careful scrutiny burned its way down the pieces.

"They seem to have been torn from the same sheet of parchment."

"And what's more, the jagged tail edge tells me there's at least one more to follow."

"But if you've been getting these all day, then it must be someone close-by."

"Sanction the guards and servants away from my chambers. Only those with the highest privilege are permitted near my door this evening."

"Of course, your highness."

* * *

"_Never once has your beauty been missed by me_

_And I'd harken to kiss you, endlessly."_

Elsa rolled over, colliding with something solid but malleable that should not have been in her bed so late at night. Her eyes flew open and she lunged backward, nearly tumbling from the bed in her haste. The intruder giggled.

"The sky's awake, Elsa."

The queen relaxed, slumping back into her pillow. "For the love of _Valhalla_, Anna, you gave me such a fright."

"Sorry."

The queen waved her arm, popping an eye open as she attempted to quiet her thrumming heart. "No matter. You're here, and the only time you come to my chambers at night is when you have something you want or need."

Anna blinked, then cleared her throat, drawing four small slips of parchment before her face.

_Kindness in the summer sun_

_Is no match for winter's fun_

_Symphonies sing their joyous song_

_Striking melodies, beautiful and long_

_A touch of joy and mild surprise_

_No lack of sparkle in bright blue eyes_

_Never once has your beauty been missed by me_

_And I'd harken to kiss you, endlessly_

The redhead was blushing profusely, even by the lack of visibility in the darkened room. Elsa blinked.

"You've been writing these couplets for me."

Her sister nodded, chewing a lip. "There's one more…it's a bit unrelated…"

She cleared her throat.

_The message you seek to try and define_

_Is hidden for you at the start of each line._

Elsa blinked again, her brain fogged by fatigue and her previous scare. "What?"

Anna held all four slips out for her sister to grasp. Elsa reread the entire list of couplets six times before looking up at her sister.

"It took me all week to figure out how to write this stuff down," Anna admitted sheepishly.

"That would explain the time spent harassing the library's maids," Elsa mused. "But what does it mean?"

_The message you seek to try and define_

_Is hidden for you at the start of each line._

Elsa gave pause, rereading the first word of each couplet. _Kindness is symphony string a no never and?_ "I don't understand…"

Then it clicked. Her eyes widened. She looked up, only to have the papers crumple in her fist as a pair of soft, pleading lips graced her own.

* * *

_**Yay riddles. Hopefully everyone got it. If not, go back and reread: the first letters say "KISS ANNA". Comment if you'd like. I love you all, my gentle snowflakes, and I've just sat down to write the Nightmare fic for Elsanna week. Be prepared: it's not gonna be pretty. ~Kyttin  
**_


	3. Nightmare

**_A/N: This presently marks the longest piece in the collection. I will warn you now: There are some EXTREMELY DARK images ahead. If you are squeamish or don't wish to think badly of me (or my writing), I cannot very well tell you to turn around or to condone my writing, but please don't force yourself to keep reading if at any time you feel it's too much to handle._**

**_And as a side note, what comes ahead is the "shortened" version of what I intended to write. Thanks to my wonderful beta Seas of Sorrow, I'll be further expanding on this story just for our sick, twisted delight. If anyone would like the final version of what comes up, PM me your email or something and I'll shoot a copy over._**

**_This piece could conceivably be Rated AO for Adults Only, but I don't know that I pushed it far enough for that._**

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_The Slipshod Collection_

Elsanna Week 2014, Prompt 3: Nightmare

The sound of metal scrubbing against a leather-and-steel hilt brought Anna's head swiveling to face the sound, the ice between her bones grating painfully in her ears as they focused on the source of the noise. Hans, brandishing his forged steel blade with a dexterous arm, took a menacing step toward the fallen queen, glaring at her hunched figure with malice and sadistic pleasure.

_Elsa!_

Without thinking, Anna forced her legs to surge, fighting the chatter in her teeth and the ice in her bones. She planted her right leg against the ice, pushing for all her worth to slam the left leg down after, nearly to the point of crawling forward toward her sister. Hans twirled the blade experimentally. She took two more steps, shuffling closer across the treacherous ice. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, crystallizing in the icy air as they slid down cheeks that were slowly turning to frozen glass. She blinked, eyelids sticking to frozen eyeballs, despair tugging at her feeble heart as it beat angrily against her breast, thrumming her blood past the clots that had formed in her knees and elbows. Another step forward. And another.

He lifted the blade over his head. Elsa's neck lay bare, unguarded by even the smallest bit of white-blonde hair. Anna choked down a sob, tears freezing her eyes open as she struggled forward against the cloying bonds of unconsciousness, beckoning her closer to a frozen hell she fought to prolong if only to save her beloved sister.

Her last step. She was so close. His toothy smirk, his maniacal eyes, the gleeful spring in his step as he moved forward. The blade whistled down. Anna brought her arm up.

_Whack._

The unexpected sound of steel striking flesh rang loud and clear across the frozen fjord, splitting the silence like a gunshot. Anna blinked. Warmth had surged back through her veins, the once-solid tears resuming their journey down her cheeks. She brought her head back down to gaze at Hans with level eyes, his jaw agape. She blinked again.

The sound of water dripping nearby grabbed her attention. She looked down at the lowered blade and noted the splash of scarlet that lisped from its hardened edge, staining the beautiful patterns encrusted within the ice below. She gazed in a stupor at the spot above her forearm where her hand was.

Had been.

Her hand lay frozen on the ice just in front of Hans's boots. Her arm ended at the wrist, capped by a cauterized stump of unspilled blood. The fingers twitched with the feeble remnants of a robbed life before freezing into glass, the curse siphoned away from her heart and her head. She felt woozy at seeing part of her body detached from its former residence. Memories of a past she hadn't known flooded her head. She recalled dancing in a frozen ballroom with her sister. Building a snowman. Jumping from drift to drift, higher and higher. She remembered the ice crashing against her forehead. She remembered. She _remembered._

She lowered her arm. Hans blinked, his jaw flapping in the frozen air. Anna felt her cloak stir behind her, felt Elsa standing, shaking, shivering. She heard the queen gasp, felt the numbness at the end of her arm tingling incessantly, felt her hearing drift away and her head grow light.

"A-Anna!"

Her knee buckled. She fell forward, striking the ice hard. Pain lanced at her hip and ankle.

"Anna, no!"

Black.

* * *

Elsa felt a thrumming in her head that refused to cease and desist. The thought of angry hornets running rampant within her head came slowly to fruition as needles of angry outrage lashed at her consciousness with a vicious rapidity that left her near tears. She grit her teeth, grinding molars as she forced her aching eyes to open.

She found herself suspended in the air, her head lolling about as whatever vindictive power she'd been subjected to shuddered its way through her skin and her scalp. Her hands felt for her feet, the four pale limbs shackled painfully together behind her back. She attempted to freeze the shackles to break them off. The iron mittens clamped down on her hands and feet even tighter, crushing bones together beneath the skin. She whimpered, releasing her hold on the magic, hoping to alleviate some of the torment.

It was then that she noticed that her ice gown was missing. She found herself bereft of any clothing whatsoever, suspended in a room lit by a single lantern suspended on a short pole a scant distance away. She blinked at it, bleary eyes swimming with hazy nonrecognition. She craned her neck, attempting to look around.

Her ears and eyes immediately snapped toward the sound of clinking chains across the room. She swallowed past a dry lump in her throat.

"Who's there?"

The chains clinked more. A cough rang out. "E-Elsa?"

"Anna?!"

The heavy wooden door to Elsa's left swung open on silent hinges, revealing the bastard who'd attempted to kill both members of the royal family in one fell swoop. She growled.

"_Hans._"

He chuckled, shutting the door and twisting the key in the lock. "I must say, you two make quite the pair. I mean, with Anna losing her hand and you passing out on top of her, it was just too easy to have you dragged back here and hoisted. All it took was finding stunt doubles to die for your crimes of treason against Arendelle."

"How did anyone even believe you?"

"Well, back when our dear princess over here was dying in that parlor and you were chained away in the basement, I let slip that she and I had given our marriage vows to the silence of the room. It was all too easy to fool those pathetic inbred members of the court that I was the rightful ruler to sentence you two to death by guillotine."

"In front of the townspeople!"

"Of course! How else could I have had any real enjoyment? You should've seen how they cringed at the blood. It was wonderful."

"You monster."

He laughed, the cruel sound echoing around the walls. He plucked a torch from the wall and lit it with the lantern, striding slowly around the room to ignite the others like it. "Is that why I'm King of Arendelle and you were exiled to the north mountain? Is that why that so-called 'act of true love' the snowman spoke of left you both down here with me now? Is that why you were 'beheaded' for your crimes?"

The room had begun to warm up a small amount, the flickering of the firelight finally granting Elsa permission to see her sister, strung up by only three limbs, her fourth dangling limply toward the floor. Red sores shone clearly around the binding chains snaked round creamy joints. Breasts hung, small and limp, pointed dejectedly at the floor with her stump. The hazy fear and pain in her eyes made Elsa want to scream.

"Y'know, it's actually quite pathetic that you're both so desperate for affection. I mean, let's take dear Anna here for example," he drawled, waltzing closer to her limp form. Elsa could see her sister attempting to flee from the man in vain. "You were so willing to marry a man you didn't know a thing about, just because you were so innocent...so naive...so fucking _stupid._"

With his free hand, he drew a knife from his belt. The blade glinted in the firelight. Elsa's mouth ran dry. "What are you doing?"

"Well, marriage is a sacred act of uniting two parties together interminably. Anna here was willing to sacrifice that sanctuary...all for someone like me. That's poor judgment. And as we thirteen brothers were taught back in my home kingdom, bad judgment leads to punishment of equal value."

Anna whimpered. Elsa growled. "Don't you dare-"

"Or what? What can you do, hanging from the ceiling like a _piñata _from Spain? Even your ice powers have been restricted by my shackles. They'll crush your hands and feet if you attempt to freeze them."

Elsa cringed. "Don't do this, Hans. Don't touch her."

"I already took her hand," he chuckled. "Now I intend to take her vow."

He raised the blade, small and unimpressive, and brought it down with a slow, deliberate stroke. The silver point dug into the space between the palm and knuckle of Anna's left ring finger. She shrieked, tears spilling from her eyes, blood running red and strong from the incision.

"Hurts to be betrayed by your 'true love,' doesn't it?"

He stabbed again. Anna let fly another scream. Elsa swallowed, tears leaking down her cheeks.

"Hans, stop this!"

The final slice left the finger to drop to the floor, blood staining the cobblestone. He held the lit torch up to the missing digit and let the wound flare shut. Anna continued to sob, the violent exclamations echoing off the walls of the empty room.

"Does that hurt?" Hans asked. The pain evident in Anna's eyes did nothing to soften his malicious smirk. He rounded on Elsa, a withering glare searing the skin from his haughty face.

"You know what else? Had you not been dragged back from the mountain, your sister would have filled in as queen of Arendelle. She almost got the chance to be her own woman, to be the heir...leaving _you _as the spare. And then you came back and took that all away from her. I'd give you the honor of making the change permanent, but...well, we can't have you killing the new ruler of Arendelle, can we? I suppose I should do it for you, seeing as you both sacrificed your royalty to me."

He wedged the torch into the stones below his feet, traipsing toward the sniveling young woman suspended helplessly in the air. He drew up one of the long, delicate braids hanging limply from Anna's head.

"One red braid for _royalty,_" he drew out with slow sarcasm, letting the blade reflect the light of the fire. He dragged it across the strands, splitting them from the base of Anna's neck upward toward the top of her head. Slow, twanging splinters popped and ticked in the room, sound glancing off the walls to echo incessantly against Elsa's ear drums. She could see the pain in Anna's eyes, from losing her hand, her finger, her hair.

The braid came off in his hand, dangling with graceful pleats and woven strands of meticulous labor by the castle hands. He crossed to the torch and smiled.

"Taken away by the former Queen Elsa."

He lowered the braid into the hungry flame of the torch, watching intently as the strands smouldered and burnt to ash. Elsa couldn't speak past the dried lump in her hollow throat. Her heart seemed to beat its way into silence, her breathing ceased.

"And one red braid for _infertility_," he lisped once the braid was little more than ash on the floor. He stepped back to Anna, drawing the second strand of meticulously-woven hair into the air to glow in the light. Elsa winced as the smell of baked vanilla reached her nostrils.

"Taken away by yours truly."

He dropped the second strand into the fire, stepping slowly around Anna's withered figure. He grinned.

"And to think, her dear friend _Kristoff _isn't here to enjoy taking this for himself."

"Hans…"

"Something to say, Elsa?"

She struggled to choke back her sobs, watching as he twirled the knife in his hands. "Not Anna. Please...please not Anna."

"And what power have you to stop me?"

"I...I'm the Ice Queen. Let it be me, just...not Anna, please...please...please…"

He laughed, cold and cruel. "What's this? You're doing the sacrificing this time? Paying back the favor she offered you in saving your life?"

He stepped back around Anna. Elsa felt her insides writhing at her helplessness, at the inability to rescue the sister who had saved her a gruesome beheading out on the ice. Hans shook his head.

"Do you love her, Elsa?"

"I…"

He flicked the blade against Anna's exposed throat, hoisting her head backward by the hacked tufts of hair. Anna's eyes were closed, breathing uneven, face stricken by tears.

"Yes! ...yes, yes, I love her, I love her, please, don't hurt her, no, no, no, I do, I do, I do, I do I do I do I do…"

Hans nodded slowly. He pulled the blade away and gazed long and hard at Elsa, still holding Anna's head aloft on a limp, strained neck.

Without warning, he backhanded the young woman, knife still in hand. A nasty gash arced its way across both cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She squealed, fighting to pull her head back down, to hide, to flee, to do anything.

"You're both so fucking disgusting. I knew it was you the moment she tried to break the news of our engagement to you at your blessed party. I knew you lusted after her, could see it in your eyes, could smell it that far away, the stench oozing from between your legs the way you women with your lack of restraint are wont to do. Your _sister_, Elsa."

He shoved her head down with manic force, drawing himself up to his full height. To say he towered over the women would have been an understatement. "I mean, taking a liking to women is fine. Acceptable, even, to take after your own gender. The Greeks and Romans did it all the time, what with all the faggot bastards that were enlisted in the army butt-fucking each other to victory. I mean, hell, at the time, fudge-stuffing was so common it might as well have been a plague! So, really, taking toward women is of no consequence."

He paused. "But royalty is usually keen on keeping secrets hidden from the public. And, forgive me, but I didn't see much discretion between you two. It was so blatantly obvious that you two were waiting for the party to end. And sure, while a woman would have been fine for you, you chose the one woman that led you to this unfortunate predicament."

He stepped closer, making each scuffing footfall echo ominously off the stone walls. "How disgustingly lewd do you have to be to taint your _sister_, your own flesh and blood? Your _baby. sister. _That's a double offense. Incest for sake of royalty isn't unheard of, but homoerotic incest? With your baby sister? The darling pride and joy of Arendelle? Perhaps the ice that you cast has frozen some part of your brain and left you in need of being institutionalized. I've never heard of something so unnatural, so perverted, so..._sickening._ That's the opposite of what a queen should be. You were never fit to rule, just as you were never fit to be Anna's older sister, you uncontrolled, irresolute, deceptive _cunt._"

He then backhanded her, the knife digging far deeper into her face than it had Anna's. She was thankful for the physical pain, if only for it outweighing the emotional. She was a coward. A fool. Hans was right. Hans knew best. He'd had twelve older brothers to learn him well of the world.

"Well, I see all of it, Elsa. I see all that you've done to yourself and your sister. I'm here to fix this, to fix both of you. I'm here to make you see the errors of your ways and turn you into normal, pathetic human beings, just as ordinary and well-adjusted as the common folk. And I've decided to start by busting the candy out of this _piñata._"

Elsa watched with glassy eyes as he strode to the far wall and plucked a large, heavy plank of wood from the floor. Her brain failed to inform her of the inevitable outcome that would follow, instead leaving her to fend for herself with nothing but mute resignation.

Thus, when the plank cracked against her ribs with the force of a horse-drawn buggy, she let fly a scream that roused Anna's dangling head, which watched as the board was brought down with vicious force against the queen's back.

"Those are for being spineless and gutless."

He crashed the board against her other side, splitting two ribs. Elsa coughed and spluttered, the pain doubling as blood dripped from her mouth. She failed to fight the sob that choked its way from her aching throat.

"That's for the heartlessness you've shown your sister."

The plank sang as it whipped through the air, crashing against Elsa's forearms. She felt one of them splinter, the bone disintegrating within her strung-up arm. Pieces of the ruined arm lumped unnaturally beneath the skin. More screaming, echoing ceaselessly around the walls of the tiny, confined chamber.

"That's for not making use of arms to hold her."

Her legs were next, and the feel of crushed bone splitting through soft, pale skin nearly sent Elsa into a new concussive wave of agony. She felt faint, dizzy, and her body sent such bouts of spasming agony to her brain that she developed a headache and retched, spewing more blood along the cobble.

"That's for not standing up for her."

He then swung the solid piece of wood upward into her gut, knocking the breath clear from her lungs and crushing her organs upon themselves; she was powerless to stop the stream of urine that splashed along the floor below as she moaned, more blood spilling over her once-pearly teeth.

"And that's for not keeping to your promise to never hurt her."

He brandished the board like a sword, striding slowly back within her line of sight. He waited for the stream to sputter and die, waited for her body to sag, limp and immobile, held only by the cruel restraints that had opened bloody welts across her wrists and ankles. Her ruined arm blazed white rage through her shoulder; her splintered leg threatened to take her consciousness away with each slowly passing second. Her ribs ached; one of her lungs felt shriveled and useless, the other fighting to breathe for what was left of her body. Her organs felt crushed. The fine fuzz around her groin glistened as the last vestiges of her bladder dripped over the once maintained strands. She shuddered, head lolling forward, eyes blank and unseeing beyond the mind-numbing pain and unending terror that loomed dark and omnipotent above her. And it with all its decrepit, maniacal glory gazed down at her with angry green eyes and sweat-laden sideburns.

"You were never queen. You weren't even her sister. You couldn't keep any of your promises, and you failed to keep the one person who you claim to love safe. You're pathetic."

"What...gives...you...that right...to say...that?"

He blinked, holding the board level with the end of her nose, mere inches from her face. "I'm an objective third-party to this whole ordeal. And as the new King of Arendelle, and you as the victims of death by beheading, it is my job to make sure that the scum of the earth such as yourselves are fixed. Permanently."

Elsa coughed, crying out at the pain of a ruptured lung as she spat dark droplets of crimson life onto the floor. They sparkled as they fell, blinking and glistening in the firelight until they hit the floor with an unimpressive display of spattering and flattening.

"But talk is very cheap," Hans continued. "Actions speak far louder than words."

He drew the blade once again, stepping close to Elsa's limp frame. She lacked even the willpower to gaze up at him and so focused on the cooling puddle of yellow underneath her, using it as a reminder to keep awake, that it would be Anna's red if she lost the fight.

More red coated the ground as he lacerated both of her dangling breasts, cutting the firm flesh to merely sting and drip across the floor, red mixing with yellow and staining the entire puddle orange. _Like Olaf's nose._

A second cut across each breast, deeper. More blood rained down. She coughed again, finally letting a yelp pass by her clenched teeth, the pain in her lungs and chest too great to fight any further. Her arm burned, her leg burned, her body burned all over. Being dragged down a rocky mountain path behind a horse for a mile would have been preferred to the fixing she was getting. She fought to stay awake even as sleep cloyed at her brain, dragging her deeper, deeper, the sirens singing a pleasant song for her to fall prey for.

The gashes that followed along her biceps and thighs didn't matter, nor did the grievous X-shaped wound across her back. The dull burning in her limbs and the pounding of her blood in her skull were the only two things she was aware of, other than the sound of Hans walking, talking, breathing, existing.

"And now that I've finished with your body, I think it's high time we start with Anna's...and work a bit on your mind."

Never had Elsa seen a more heartbroken Anna than the moment she finally chose to look up and observe what Hans was doing next. She saw that losing a hand, a finger, and her hair pales in comparison to what was likely a fatal amount of damage to her lithe body. Elsa could see that Anna knew she would have broken less easily, stood a better chance, she who had thicker skin, more courage, better curves, a fullness Elsa had never achieved. She was lanky and icy, where Anna was full and bright and bubbly.

But the undying love in Anna's eyes told Elsa that no amount of pain, suffering, or separation would ever break what they held for each other.

Within the encroaching blackness, Elsa managed to force a bloody grin across her face.

"I...I want...to help y-you…" cough "Anna...I...I" cough "l-love you...s-s-so much" cough "it hurts...seeing you there...and know" cough "knowing I...can't help…" cough "I" sob "I'm so sorry…"

She couldn't hear the words Anna was surely speaking with that beautiful mouth, lips and tongue rolling and joining sounds to form words. All she saw was Hans, stepping up behind her sister, his breeches tossed on the floor behind him, a lustful smirk on his face. All she heard was Anna's sharp intake of breath. All she knew was that Anna was to be ruined, defiled right before her very eyes, and she was powerless to stop it.

And as the darkness finally drew across her eyes and she fell into the abyss, the echoing plea of her sister's tortured voice rang loud and clear across her eardrums, a cacophony of sound that

kicked her awake.

Elsa sat bolt upright, arms clutching tightly at her stomach as she heaved, dry sobs wracking her body, her cries echoing throughout the room. She stumbled from her bed, crashing against the bedpost as she tripped over the rug, lunging at the door with an unqueenly fervor. She fought against the wood edifice, nails scrabbling at the handle until it finally turned. She tossed the door wide, blind in the darkness the new moon brought that night, and tumbled into the hallway, a sobbing, retching mess. Water bubbled from her stomach to stain the carpet below, a small puddle of her night's suffering. She failed to notice. Her legs, shaking and vibrating all to hell, had already forced her body upright and let her stagger down the hall as quickly as she could, wobbling and crashing into things as though she were a newborn deer or an overly inebriated drunkard. She knocked a one-of-a-kind vase from its pedestal, shattering the kiln-fired piece of pottery and ruining its four thousand year legacy in a single move. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but Anna. Several clay busts met similar fates as Elsa bobbled and bounced from pedestal to pedestal, shredding paintings from the walls and cracking her knees and ankles against tables, chairs, plants and their pots. Nothing mattered; nothing even registered in her brain except _Anna_, dear sweet beloved Anna just a scant few feet away.

She slammed Anna's unlocked bedroom doors open, startling the young woman awake from what was surely a wonderfully lucid dream, terribly unlike the queen's own terrifying nightmare. Anna sat up, gazing at her sister with confusion and fatigue in her eyes. The queen felt her shoulders heaving, her breaths ragged and unstable, legs shaking in fear.

"El...sa?"

The blonde staggered forward, traipsing an uneven path toward a sister who was slowly standing from bed to greet her, hair akimbo, eyes bleary but filled with confusion and slowly-growing worry. In just two steps Elsa held Anna in her arms, safe, warm, secure, and sleep-ridden. She squeezed her sister the way she would squeeze a lemon in a strainer to make lemonade on a hot summer's day.

"Elsa...can't breathe…"

The blonde took her time relinquishing her hold on her sister, using the opportunity to breathe in the scent of her wonderful younger sister, blissfully alive and well. Elsa felt tears streaming down her face, knew without seeing that they were staining the slip her sister had worn to bed that night. She burrowed her face into Anna's shoulder, releasing her clenching grip.

"I'm sorry…"

And suddenly she found that she couldn't stop apologizing, repeatedly, until Anna stroked her back and her head with gentle shushing.

"Whatever you think you've done, I'm _fine_."

"No. No, you weren't. Hans...he, he _raped_ you, Anna, poor, sweet Anna, Hans raped you, oh my God, and he cut off-!"

She immediately groped for Anna's hands, gleaning no sense of relief at finding them still intact and perfect. Anna blinked.

"Did you...have a bad dream, sis?"

Elsa bit her lip, a bad habit she'd gleaned from her younger sister's slight (but adorable) overbite, and nodded, eyes trained on the shiny silver button at the top of Anna's slip. The redhead sighed.

"Come on. You can cuddle up with me tonight."

"B-b-but Hans-"

"-is back on the Southern Isles where he belongs. Kai saw to it personally, remember?"

Elsa _did _remember. She remembered Anna freezing. She remembered the great thaw. She remembered Hans being tossed aboard the French vessel to be dropped at his home on the way out. She remembered the ice-skating party. She remembered the night in the library with the hot chocolate. She remembered the poems. She remembered _Anna_.

"You...you're alive."

"Well, you had me worried I might not be able to breathe for a minute there, but yeah."

A sigh of relief. "I just...horrible, horrible…"

"Whatever it was, I'm here. I've always been here, Elsa."

"...I'm so sorry, Anna."

"Let's not worry about this right now. I'm tired, you're freaked out, it's okay. Whatever it is, we can work it out together. In the morning. When it's light out and the sky's awake."

Elsa shivered and nodded, allowing Anna to lead them both back to her four-poster bed. She settled her sister under the covers and cuddled up with her nose touching the queen's.

"I...I love you, Anna. I love you so much it hurts sometimes...it hurts my heart, it hurts my body...it hurts my _head._"

Anna sighed, placing a gentle kiss on her sister's forehead. "And you sometimes get these terrible nightmares that we need to settle."

"This one...was the worst. It...he…"

"Shh." Another kiss to the forehead. "We'll talk in the morning. For now, get some rest."

Elsa nodded, body shaking from the stress. Anna drew her sister in tight, snuggling up under the comfort of the covers, and felt with great, sleepy joy as the queen's breathing and heart-rate dropped as her mind finally drifted off to sleep. Whatever had ailed her sister's mind was in the past.

And Anna drifted off, a smile on her lips to match the one on Elsa's.

* * *

_**Yeah, shoot me. Whatever. I gave you all a happy ending. Hopefully this piece broke some hearts because it was kinda fun to write it that way. Though, chances are, if it's uncomfortable for you to read then I've done well. If you don't feel it...well, then, I have a finger for you because this should have bothered you in some way. Anyways, all of my blahness aside, I love you all, my gentle snowflakes, and I will return soon with the fourth prompt for Elsanna week (which is three weeks gone, I think). ~Kyttin  
**_


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